


Fabric of the Mind

by tarinumenesse



Series: Lone Moon [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Duty, Escape, F/M, Family, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loyalty, Missing Scene, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-08-18 21:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20198821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarinumenesse/pseuds/tarinumenesse
Summary: Dimitri waits in a jail cell for his execution. He does not wait alone. He cannot remember being alone. Just maybe, things are better this way. But Dedue will not let the person who saved him, or his dream of a better kingdom, die. For Dimitri, escape may be a more fatal option.





	1. Nightmares

Dimitri sat on the floor of the cell with his back pressed against the uneven stone wall behind him. He pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them before resting his forehead on his knees and closing his eyes.

There had been no concessions to Dimitri’s status since his arrest for his uncle’s murder three weeks earlier. The only scrap of compassion he had received was from the soldier who led him to this cell where he was spending his last living hours.

‘I’m sorry, Your Highness,’ the man had whispered. ‘I made sure your cell has a window so you can see the sky.’

For a moment that had provided some comfort. The night sky reminded him of the stories his stepmother had told him when he was a child. But comfort never lasted. Before long they crowded around him, whispering, begging, accusing.

At the Officers Academy no one save Dedue, and maybe Sylvain, had known the complete truth about Dimitri’s headaches. When they were at their worst, Dedue spent the night on the floor of Dimitri’s room in order to wake him if necessary. The next morning, without fail, Sylvain arrived at the door with a tray of chamomile tea. Although Sylvain had never said as much, Dimitri could guess that his friend heard the cries of terror through the wall.

Perhaps the professor had guessed as well. Dimitri could still picture her ethereal green eyes narrowed in concern as she asked him, again, whether he was okay. Or commented that he did not seem himself. She had never pushed Dimitri for more information than he was willing to give, however. It had not been her way. She had been patient and kind. That was probably why she did not haunt him like the others.

‘Father,’ Dimitri murmured. ‘Stepmother.’

‘How pathetic. So you’re locked up in a cell in your own castle?’

Dimitri linked his fingers over his neck, covering his ears with the heels of his hands. Trying to block out Glenn’s voice. How he wished he could go back to those days at the Academy. The headaches that had plagued him then seemed like child’s play compared to these waking nightmares.

‘You aren’t even trying to escape,’ Glenn said. ‘You’re just wallowing here, covered in dirt and filth, letting your end draw nearer. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To be relieved of your duty. Well, what about us, princeling?’

‘It isn’t what I want,’ Dimitri replied without looking up. ‘But there is nothing I can do. I am powerless. The Kingdom has already fallen. Soon Edelgard will control all of Fódlan. There is no place in an empire for a former king.’

Glenn laughed. He ducked down to whisper in Dimitri’s ear.

‘You’re not a king,’ he scoffed. ‘You’re not much at all, really. You couldn’t even complete the only task we gave you.’

‘How can you call yourself my son?’

Dimitri looked up at his father. Lambert, illuminated by the meagre light entering through the window, appeared exactly as Dimitri remembered him from the morning of the Tragedy. But his eyebrows were knit together in a way Dimitri had never witnessed while his father was alive. Lambert stared at Dimitri with nothing but anger and disappointment.

‘Everything I have done… It has all been to avenge your death,’ Dimitri said. He despised how much it sounded like he was begging for reprieve. ‘I have devoted the last four years to finding the people responsible. I just needed more time…’

‘Then don’t sit around moping,’ Glenn interrupted. ‘Tomorrow morning your feeble head will be removed from your body. Do you think we would wait around for death like fools if there was a duty to fulfil?’

Dimitri lowered his eyes. ‘I’m so tired,’ he whispered.

‘You let that bitch trample all over you,’ Lambert said. He crossed his arms and sighed. ‘Let yourself be distracted by fools’ errands and sentiment. Maybe it is better this way. You don’t deserve the name or position you were born with. It’s better that you die.’

Dimitri knew it to be true. He pushed himself to his feet and strode towards the window. He focussed on the floor so he didn’t have to face his father’s or Glenn’s displeasure.

‘Sweet boy,’ Patricia whispered to him. ‘Avenge me. Pay them back for what they did.’

Arms crossed against the cold, Dimitri looked up at the stars. Patricia never deigned to show herself to him. In honesty he could not remember what she looked like. His imagination always summoned some version of an older Edelgard, but it pained him to imagine the only mother he had known as bearing any resemblance to that woman. Really, the night sky was all he had left of her.

Although lately another memory was summoned by the rising stars along with an emotion and a loss that Dimitri did not feel ready to admit to.

‘Sentiment,’ Lambert hissed.

The cell door clicked. The ghosts retreated, jeering. Dimitri’s heart began to race. It was too early. It was too soon! They had promised him more time. Did they plan to murder him in the dead of night? Wipe his name and existence from history completely?

Dimitri squeezed his eyes shut, ashamed of himself. He had always imagined facing his death with dignity and strength. Seiros, he had done so dozens of times on the battlefield. But now he was scared. He was terrified. Who would be waiting for him? What endless torment would he have to endure because of his failures in this life?

‘Your Highness.’

Dimitri’s breath caught. He spun and saw not one of Cornelia’s underlings, but Dedue wearing an ill-fitting soldier’s uniform.

‘Dedue?’ Dimitri stammered, all other words failing him.

Dedue entered the cell and passed Dimitri a sack.

‘Please, Your Highness,’ he said, ‘we don’t have much time.’

Dimitri stared at his friend, uncertain whether to believe his presence as truth or to admit that he had finally fallen asleep and was dreaming a rescue.

A woman slipped through the doorway.

‘Dedue, we’re clear,’ she said. Dark eyes twinkled at Dimitri from underneath the wide-brimmed hat of her warlock’s costume. ‘We should get His Highness out as quickly as possible. The guard will change soon.’

Dedue nodded at the warlock and turned back to Dimitri. When he saw Dimitri was not moving, he snatched back the sack and pulled out a soldier’s tunic and leather helmet.

‘This is quite real, Your Highness,’ Dedue said without judgement.

The warlock cackled.

‘How did you…’ Dimitri began.

Dedue shoved the tunic into Dimitri’s hands. ‘Later, sir. Put these on.’

Dimitri pulled the tunic over his stained and torn shirt – the same one he had been wearing the day of his arrest – and covered his hair with the helmet, making sure all the blond strands were hidden from sight. When he finished Dedue looked over him critically before urging him into the hallway after the warlock.

The warlock took hold of Dimitri’s wrist and led him through the jail into the yard. There were two more people waiting there, a man and a woman in the uniform of the Kingdom’s cavaliers. They nodded at Dimitri as he approached.

Dedue stepped up beside Dimitri.

‘We move quietly and quickly, sir,’ he said. ‘You in the centre and us on the four points.’

The cavaliers walked in front of Dimitri with their hands on their weapons, scanning their surroundings constantly. Dedue and the warlock followed behind. Moving in the shadows, they crossed the yard and entered the lower castle through a side door. Dimitri quickly realised they were in the servants’ quarters. He was entirely unfamiliar with this part of the castle but found it odd that the rooms were empty. Had it always been like this, or was it a result of the political upheaval of the past months?

Eventually they entered a cavernous kitchen with an entire wall of ovens and dozens of benches crowding the centre of the room. A fire burned in the hearth opposite, casting ominous shadows from the knives hanging on the walls. Dimitri followed the cavaliers down the central aisle, glancing about and wondering how many people had worked down here during the feasts he remembered from his younger years.

A shadow moved and Dimitri froze. His heart began to beat so loudly he was sure everyone could hear it. The female cavalier drew her knife as a figure stepped forward from beside the hearth.

A man in servant’s clothing, with a clear bulk around his middle and visible strength in his shoulders, paused in the circle of light cast by the hearth. His eyes stopped on Dimitri. There was a long moment of silence, then he bowed neatly at the waist. The cavalier lowered her knife with a sigh.

‘The castle’s head baker,’ Dedue said quietly at Dimitri’s shoulder. ‘You did him a service once.’

Dimitri frowned. He was unsure what Dedue meant. He could not recall ever having seen the man before.

The baker crossed the kitchen and unlocked a door. He threw it open and whistled out into the night.

The warlock grabbed Dimitri’s arm. ‘Come on, Your Highness,’ she said. ‘The milkman will be here soon. We can’t be seen.’


	2. Dreams

They reached an unfamiliar house in the east quarter of Fhirdiad at dawn. It was a narrow structure with several floors that appeared crowded in by the neighbouring buildings. Dimitri followed Dedue towards the front door, but the warlock once again grabbed his arm. She dragged him around the side of the house.

‘You are not going into my establishment in that,’ she said, eying Dimitri’s clothing as she threw open the door of a detached washroom. ‘There are probably ticks living in the hem.’

Dimitri stepped inside the washroom. It was a paradise compared to the jail cell. A fire burned happily in the grate, warming the whole room. Steam rose from the water in the bath. On a bench within reach of the tub were soap, a wash cloth, shaving tools and towels.

‘If you need anything else just say,’ the warlock said as she followed him inside.

‘This is more than I could ask,’ Dimitri replied.

‘Fantastic.’ The warlock held out her hand. ‘Then take off those clothes.’

Dimitri felt his face flush red. ‘I…’ he stuttered.

The warlock rolled her eyes. ‘It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Your clothes are filthy. I want to burn them. Give them here.’

‘Nuna, you are embarrassing His Highness.’ Dedue reached into the washroom and took hold of the warlock’s hand. He pulled her outside. ‘Your Highness, leave them in a pile by the door. There are new clothes and underthings by the fire.’

Dedue snapped the washroom door closed.

Dimitri sighed in relief and turned towards the bath. He had not realised how much he had longed for one until he saw it. But as he lifted the hem of the tunic, he saw Glenn lurking from the corner of his eye. Dimitri closed his eyes, clutching the fabric of the tunic in his fists and praying that they would leave him be.

When Dimitri entered the main house, feeling somewhat more like himself now that he was clean and shaven, he discovered a mouth-watering smell wafting through the rooms. He followed his nose to the kitchen. Inside Dedue, dressed in the neat casual uniform of a Kingdom soldier, and Nuna, warlock’s outfit replaced with a startling purple gown with a low neckline, stood by the stove arguing.

Dimitri stood quietly at the door for a long moment. Witnessing such a simple display of everyday life seemed fantastic to him now. It transported him to another world, and he remembered standing beside…the professor and learning how to make Jeralt’s special curry. He had felt unusually nervous that day, and she had laughed so loudly when he spilled the sauce down the front of his uniform. Even now, considering the professor’s usual demeanour, it seemed like her laughter had been a gift just for him.

Dedue suddenly turned his head and Dimitri realised that he must have made a sound.

‘Your Highness,’ Dedue said with a perfunctory bow. ‘Forgive us. It seems that Nuna has misremembered the recipe and added the wrong spices.’

‘I have not,’ Nuna protested. ‘You just don’t know how to make good food.’

Dimitri forced a smile – he felt out of practice, but was determined to try – and entered the room to take one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

‘It smells amazing to me,’ he said, pushing his still damp hair from his eyes. ‘I’m ravenous.’

Nuna burst into action, grabbing a spoon and piling food onto a plate. She shoved it across the table towards Dimitri.

‘Eat as much as you want,’ she said with a triumphant grin.

Dedue watched anxiously as Dimitri began to eat. The flavour was unusual, a little reminiscent of something Dedue had cooked for him before they went to the Officers Academy, but different. Not that the flavour mattered greatly; anything tasted better than the stale bread and gruel he had eaten for the last three weeks.

‘It’s delicious,’ Dimitri said.

Nuna slapped Dedue’s arm in glee.

‘I’ll leave you two alone,’ she said. ‘There’s a lot Dedue needs to explain before nightfall.’

‘Nightfall?’ Dimitri questioned.

Nuna shrugged. ‘You can’t stay here, Your Highness. It’s not safe. And you might drive away my guests.’

With that she skipped out of the room and closed the door.

Dedue shook his head as he sat down opposite Dimitri.

‘Aren’t you hungry?’ Dimitri asked quietly. With Nuna’s departure, he felt the façade of crown prince slip away.

‘I ate earlier,’ Dedue said, folding his hands on the tabletop. ‘Please finish your meal, Your Highness. We can speak afterwards. You have been through a great trial.’

Dimitri grimaced. He put down his spoon. ‘Dedue, I think you know what I wish to say regarding that,’ he said.

‘I do, Your Highness. And so allow me to save you the trouble by stating immediately that there is no reality where I would not have rescued you. There are no words that would convince me that I should have left you to that fate. And there is no life where I would not help you escape Fhirdiad.’

Dimitri stared at his food. ‘Dedue, I cannot allow you to put your life so recklessly in danger,’ he said. ‘Cornelia wants my head. So does Edelgard. I have too many enemies. You should find a home and live safely without any regard for me.’

‘My home is wherever you call yours.’

Such blind words of loyalty made Dimitri angry. He did not want such displays of devotion. He did not want fealty. He did not deserve it.

But for the first time in four years he felt unable to share his thoughts with his closest friend. He could not conjure reasons why, but he wished to hide this pain. He cast for something to say as that sorrow settled like a lead weight in his chest.

‘Who is Nuna?’

Dedue blinked. He did not answer immediately, as though he knew Dimitri was keeping something from him. But his suspicion could never overcome his sense of duty.

‘A friend,’ he answered.

Dimitri raised an eyebrow in an attempt at levity.

‘If you believe there is more, Your Highness, you are very mistaken,’ Dedue said. ‘That is an impossibility.’

‘An impossibility,’ Dimitri repeated. ‘Strange way to put it.’

Dedue just smiled grimly. Dimitri took that as a sign that any further questioning would be fruitless.

‘Escape Fhirdiad?’ he asked instead.

‘Yes,’ Dedue said. His expression returned to its habitual frown. ‘There is an old underground road out of the city. Though it has been forgotten by many, in the immediate aftermath of the Tragedy of Duscur it was used by residents of Fhirdiad with the blood of Duscur to escape retaliation. It continues to act as a pathway for people who need to leave the city secretly.’

‘Criminals?’

Dedue only looked a little sheepish as he nodded. Dimitri sighed.

‘Well, I guess that is what I am now,’ he said. ‘Since you insist on helping me avoid the just fate of such a person, tell me, when are we leaving?’

‘This evening. Nuna will scout for us as far as the entrance to the road. I will accompany you out of the city and to a safe place outside Faerghus.’

‘A safe place? You can’t mean…’

‘Garreg Mach is all but abandoned. As the first place to fall to the Empire, it is now considered defeated and unworthy of notice. It also has shelter and is close enough to villages for us to gather supplies when the time comes.’

‘Supplies for what?’

‘For the effort to regain the Kingdom,’ Dedue said promptly. ‘There is strong resistance to Cornelia’s rule, led by the Houses of Fraldarius and Gautier. When Sylvain returned home last month he begged me to go with him and join them. Once it is safe to travel north, you will be able to seek Lord Rodrigue’s protection and lead the fight. Your dream can still be the future of the Kingdom.’

Dimitri felt his father’s accusatory glare drilling into his back.

‘But can it?’ he whispered. ‘Can it truly come to pass after all this?’

Dedue jumped to his feet. ‘Your Highness, you look pale,’ he said. ‘Has your headache returned? Shall I make you some tea?’

Dimitri shook his head. ‘I am well, Dedue. Do not trouble yourself.’

‘I will boil some water.’

Dimitri let his friend do as he pleased without protest, knowing from experience that it would be impossible to stop him. When Dedue finally returned to the table, a cup of chamomile tea for Dimitri in hand, he was frowning.

‘Your Highness, please allow me to speak,’ he said.

Dimitri took a sip of tea, burning his lip in the process. He managed to hide the accident from Dedue, however, who was now directing his worry at the table.

‘Of course, Dedue,’ Dimitri said, putting the cup down.

‘Your earlier words concern me. You cannot mean that you have abandoned your dream?’

Dedue looked up at Dimitri and met his eyes as he spoke. Dimitri’s blood chilled. Had he abandoned it? The wish that had inspired him to press on after the Tragedy and seek out the people who had truly killed everyone he loved? The desire that had secured the friendship of the only person he had left?

‘No,’ Dimitri said. The lie tasted sour in his mouth. ‘Of course not.’

Dedue did not look convinced.

‘Then, Your Highness,’ he said, ‘promise me something. Please create the Kingdom you described to me so many years ago. Whatever stands against it, fulfil that long held dream. I know that you are strong enough to do so and will gladly sacrifice myself in order to see it through.’

‘Please, Dedue, do not account for your life so cheaply,’ Dimitri begged. ‘I want no part of that Kingdom if you are not there to see it.’

Dedue nodded. ‘If that is so, Your Highness, I will endeavour to survive until then.’


	3. Expectations

After Dedue explained the details of their forthcoming escape from Fhirdiad, Nuna showed Dimitri to a room on the second floor.

‘This place isn’t quiet by any means, but hopefully you can get some rest,’ she said as she went to the bed and shook out the blanket.

‘Do you run this guesthouse alone, Nuna?’ Dimitri asked.

Nuna glanced at Dimitri over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised. Dimitri wondered how much Dedue had shared with her about him. If she could tell that he was falling back onto his crown prince persona in his interactions with her. Only his closest friends could identify the different personalities he depended upon for survival. Not that any of those personalities were false: they were all him. They were simply different aspects of him.

‘Why do you say it is a guesthouse?’ she finally replied.

Dimitri shrugged. ‘It seemed the most logical guess.’

Nuna smiled. ‘Well, it is of sorts,’ she said. ‘We serve a particular type of clientele.’

‘I take it not the type I would usually be counted amongst.’

Nuna laughed. ‘Heavens no,’ she said. ‘Your people would be accepted by any establishment in Fhirdiad. Up until recently, at least. My house takes people who are not accepted by anyone. And now people who…disagree with the newest order of things.’

Nuna paused in her work rearranging the bedding and turned to Dimitri, crossing her arms.

‘You know, I was wary of becoming involved with this particular enterprise,’ she said. ‘But Dedue convinced me. He told me that you aren’t like the rest of the nobility. He said that you introduce him as your friend despite his heritage.’

‘Dedue is the only person in this world I can rely on,’ Dimitri replied. ‘To introduce him as anything else would be an insult.’

‘Those sorts of things aren’t said by your people.’

‘I would not wish to associate with anyone who thinks differently on that point.’

Nuna clicked her tongue. ‘You seem to be honest at least,’ she said. ‘I’m glad. It was that dream of yours that convinced me to help. The dream of there being no distinction between people of Duscur and people of Faerghus.’

Nuna gestured to the bed with a flourish.

‘You should sleep, Your Highness,’ she said, pointedly ending the conversation. ‘The journey to Garreg Mach won’t be easy.’

When she was gone Dimitri lay down on the bed with little expectation of proper rest. Sleeplessness did not worry him too much, being so familiar. But his conversations with Dedue and Nuna had awoken new thoughts and fears. They danced alongside the constant whispering, making his headache worse.

He tossed and turned, trying to banish everything from his mind, but it was useless. Eventually, in a form of desperation, Dimitri focussed on the movements and murmurings of other people in the house. Opening and closing doors, the yawns of strangers who must just be rising to face the day. People simply living.

Or perhaps more. Nuna’s earlier description of her patrons had left Dimitri in little doubt that this guesthouse acted as a centre for some sort of resistance to Cornelia and the Empire. Could there truly be people remaining who professed some sort of loyalty to his family? Or did they seek freedom from both the Empire and the Kingdom?

Curiosity overwhelming him, Dimitri slipped downstairs armed with the excuse of needing a cup of water. He didn’t meet anyone on the stairs, but could hear people conversing in the kitchen. When he opened the door he found five people, including Dedue, sitting around the table. But they fell silent when they saw who had interrupted them.

‘Your Highness?’ Dedue asked, standing.

‘I am just thirsty,’ Dimitri said. ‘Please, do not…’

Dedue was already fetching water from the pitcher. He crossed the room and passed the cup to Dimitri.

‘Please, Your Highness, go upstairs and rest,’ he said. ‘If you require anything, call me.’

Dimitri nodded as Dedue closed the kitchen door. The murmur of voices from within did not resume until Dimitri had begun climbing the stairs.

Back in the room, Dimitri put the cup of water aside and threw himself onto the bed. Uneasiness crept up upon him, gnawing at his gut. They did not want him to know what was happening. It was the first time someone had actively sought to exclude him from a discussion. He wondered if it was because they knew he was cursed. After all everyone he had ever cared about, except Dedue, was gone. These people probably knew they risked the same fate by helping him.

The ghosts crowded around his bed. They were silent, though, for now just tormenting him with their presence and stares. He was not able to satisfy them by living or dying. A pounding began in his skull, driving sleep further away.

Dimitri stared at the ceiling. The shadows cast by the daylight streaming through the window slowly travelled across the room. It was long past the time that had been set for his execution. What had happened when they discovered his cell was empty?

‘They’re trawling the streets.’

The voice in the hallway startled him, but it was welcome. Dimitri swung into a seated position and stared at the door, drinking up the words.

‘I wonder if the people will believe His Highness is dead. Surely they won’t buy the story that he was executed in private? The scaffold was already erected in the city square.’

‘Mind your words.’

Dedue’s warning overrode the strangers’ voices. Dimitri quickly lay down, rolling onto his side to face the wall. A moment later there was a knock on the door.

‘Your Highness.’

‘Enter,’ Dimitri called.

Dedue opened the door as Dimitri swung his legs off the bed. He looked up to see his friend and a stranger struggling with a large box. Dimitri jumped to his feet.

‘We can manage, Your Highness,’ Dedue said as Dimitri caught the teetering corner and straightened it.

‘I can help,’ Dimitri countered as they lowered the box to the floor together.

The stranger was quick to disappear into the hallway once the chore was done. Dedue closed the door behind him and eyed the box. After a moment's hesitation, he spoke.

‘It is for you, Your Highness.’

Dedue lifted the lid. The contents flashed as they caught the late afternoon sunlight. Dimitri stared at them in horror.

It was his armour. The armour for his coronation, the armour he had never had the chance to wear.

The smiths had used black sand steel to create a smooth, dark finish. On the upper right of the breastplate a cross was etched into the metal and inlaid with lapis the exact blue of the colour of the royal family of Blaiddyd. It was a set of the finest armour in the entire Kingdom, forged with magic to be light and flexible, but stronger than the hide of a Demonic Beast.

Dimitri felt the weight of a thousand people settle on him, as sure as he had walked into the church to be crowned. He despised the fact that the armour was here, despised the risk that must have been taken, despised the meaning behind his friend giving it to him. It was worse than the rejection he had felt just before.

‘How…?’ he voiced.

‘You have more supporters than you know, Your Highness,’ Dedue said.

Dimitri picked up the breastplate. It was something from another life, like a relic. A relic.

‘Areadbhar?’ he questioned.

Dimitri’s heart sank as Dedue shook his head.

‘Unfortunately the Hero’s Relic has disappeared,’ Dedue said. ‘It was probably scavenged by one of Cornelia’s henchmen. But I was able to retrieve this.’

Dedue reached down beside the armour and drew out a folded cloak of blue and silver. Dimitri recognised it immediately. Although Dedue offered it to him, he could not bring himself to touch it.

‘My father’s…’

Dedue nodded. ‘I retrieved it from the castle in the chaos after Cornelia seized control. It is the one your father wore when riding to battle.’

Dimitri forced his hand forward and took hold of the cloak. As he lifted it, it fell from its folds and revealed the heraldic crest of the House of Blaiddyd. Dimitri felt nauseous at the sight of the silver knight and griffin. They seemed to mock him, reminding him of the complete and absolute failure he was. Unable to unify his Kingdom. Unable to defend his people. Unable to avenge his family.

‘Of course it is probably best you do not wear it until we have escaped Fhirdiad,’ Dedue said, unaware of the turmoil that slowly tightened around Dimitri’s heart. ‘But allow me to assist you with your armour. You must be well protected as we make our escape.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri's last moment of reprieve, if I can even call it that. (Sorry Dimitri...)
> 
> This story was only going to be four chapters long originally, but the more I thought about events the more I was intrigued by two things: firstly, the suggestion in Dedue and Dimitri's conversations that Dimitri had completely given up at the point of his arrest, which made me want to explore the conflict caused by that hopelessness in light of his sudden escape; and secondly, after the timeskip how exactly did Dimitri have armour that is clearly made for him? I think it is unlikely Cornelia put him in prison in full armour...
> 
> Thoughts most welcome!


	4. Reality

When they left the house at dusk, Dimitri wore an overcoat to hide his armour and a hat to cover his hair. Dedue was dressed as a simple merchant. Dimitri had tried to convince him to wear armour, but Dedue had insisted that if he did, it would draw too much attention. For the same reason they both carried only shoulder bags in order to appear normal residents of the city. They would only seem suspicious if they were searched. As well as some provisions to supplement the ones hidden in the underground road, Dimitri’s bag contained his father’s cloak, and Dedue’s a handaxe that was the only weapon they dared carry within Fhirdiad.

In comparison, Nuna sauntered down the street in her purple dress. Men and women alike watched her. Soldiers paused to joke with her. She laughed loudly, drawing the attention of commoners and nobles alike. It made a mockery of Dimitri’s and Dedue’s careful disguises.

‘Isn’t she drawing too much attention?’ Dimitri asked Dedue in a whisper.

‘Sometimes it’s better to hide in plain sight,’ Dedue replied.

Dedue’s words did little to reassure Dimitri as Nuna continued to flirt her way through the night market.

Despite the unrest of the past months, the market carried on with its business as though the appearance of normality would stop the world from turning upside down. Stall holders announced their products in yells as darkness fell and the streetlamps were lit. There were even street performers here and there, gathering small crowds to themselves.

Dedue and Dimitri wandered about and pretended to be interest in the wares. Dimitri found the act difficult to maintain as he noticed the heavy presence of soldiers amongst the shoppers, stopping random people to study their faces and ask for identification.

They were at the far end of the market when a hand landed on Dimitri’s shoulder.

‘State your business.’

The voice was gruff and unforgiving. Trying to force his stomach to stop churning, Dimitri turned to the soldier. He was several years older than Dimitri with dark hair that fell in his eyes and a battle scar on his chin. No recognition crossed his face as Dimitri met his eyes.

Dedue stepped between Dimitri and the soldier, forcing them apart.

‘He is a mercenary I hired from out of town,’ Dedue said.

The soldier looked Dedue up and down. 'You need a mercenary? You'd do a better job protecting him.'

Dedue crossed his arms. 'I have the right to protect myself.'

‘And he’s following you around the market?’

‘These days and times. One never knows when or where a fight will start.’

The soldier shrugged. ‘True enough,’ he said. ‘Move along.’

The soldier turned and strolled away.

‘He looked straight at me,’ Dimitri said in an undertone to Dedue.

‘He didn’t seem to recognise you,’ Dedue replied, frowning.

‘You’re right.’ But Dimitri could not dismiss the unease that had settled with the exchange.

Dedue watched the soldier weave through the crowd. 'It can’t be helped,' he said. 'We must press on.’

They reached the end of the market. Dimitri saw Nuna slip into an alleyway further up the street, beyond the lights cast by the streetlamps. As a low whistle sounded through the dark, Dedue gestured for Dimitri to follow her.

Dimitri found Nuna standing by a small wooden door at the end of the alleyway. When she caught sight of him, she tapped on the door in a distinct rhythm: three knocks, one strong bang and another, lighter knock. The door opened immediately.

Nuna stepped back and nodded at Dimitri.

‘Good luck,’ she said. ‘I hope I get to see this world Dedue has told me about.’

Dimitri reached out and clasped Nuna’s hand. ‘Thank you,’ he said, although he was unsure of the conviction behind his words. It just seemed like the right thing to say.

Dimitri ducked through the doorway. He found himself in a large room with a dirt floor. It appeared to be a storehouse of some sort, with boxes of vegetables against the wall, a wheelbarrow by the door, and five stairs on the left-hand wall leading up to a door that presumably opened to an office. The only occupant of the room was a man dressed head to toe in black.

‘Your Highness,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you are safe.’

‘It is only thanks to people such as you,’ Dimitri replied, the words rolling off his tongue without much thought as Dedue quietly closed the door behind them.

‘This way, Your Highness,’ the man said.

They had barely taken a step when a thump echoed through the room. The wooden door shook with the sound. Dedue and the man in black froze.

‘Open in the name of the Emperor!’

‘Seiros,’ the man swore. ‘Quick!’

There was no chance to move. The door was thrown off its hinges. As soldiers poured into the room the man pushed Dimitri behind him and drew a knife. Dedue pulled the handaxe from his satchel.

The soldiers spread out in a semi-circle, blocking the exit to the alleyway, but did not attack. Dimitri counted them up to ten, his mind frantically calculating odds and battle tactics. He was only distracted from that task when their commander stepped through doorway.

It was Aleko, a nephew of the current Count Rowe. Dimitri had spoken with him on many occasions at court events where he had shown absolute deference to Dimitri as the crown prince. Now he looked directly at Dimitri and sneered.

‘Did you think we wouldn’t notice your ten-foot lapdog wandering through the market?’ he goaded. ‘We just had to confirm it was you with him.’

Dimitri remembered the soldier and cursed.

‘Thank you for leading us here,’ Aleko continued, glancing around the storehouse. ‘This building will be razed to the ground and its inhabitants executed for treason.’

‘Aleko, please,’ Dimitri said. ‘Your family is famous for standing against the Empire. Why have you joined them?’

Aleko bristled. ‘Don’t presume to know anything about me,’ he said, the anger clear in his voice. Gesturing to Dimitri, he issued his order. ‘Capture the fugitive!’

‘Your Highness, go!’ Dedue shouted.

At the same moment Dedue spoke, Aleko grunted. His eyes widened and he fell forward to reveal a steel axe between his shoulders.

There was a wild scream. Nuna appeared from nowhere, wielding a sword. The room became a seething struggle as unfamiliar and masked figures pushed inside and the soldiers turned to defend their lives.

The man in black grabbed Dimitri and dragged him towards the stairs.

‘You must go ahead,’ he said. ‘You must leave now.’

‘No!’

Escaping didn’t matter. This was his worst nightmare. The only nightmare Dimitri had not yet lived. He searched the crowded room for his friend, his hand blindly reaching for a non-existent lance. He could not let anything happen to the only person he had left in the world.

‘Dedue!’

Dedue spun towards Dimitri’s shout. Dimitri cried out, realising his friend had misunderstood the warning.

A steel sword slammed through Dedue. Dedue choked as the tip of the blade emerged from his chest. His axe tumbled to the ground.

Dimitri broke free of the man in black with a shriek. He pushed past a soldier and felt a blade rebound off his breastplate. Dimitri didn’t have a weapon. He didn’t care. He would tear them apart with his bare hands.

Nuna appeared before Dimitri and blocked his way.

‘Get out!’ she screeched.

‘I’ll kill them!’

Nuna slapped Dimitri across the face, throwing him off balance. ‘Get out! If you die here, this was all for nothing!’

The next moments were a blur. Strong hands, too many of them to fight, grabbed Dimitri’s arms. He was dragged kicking and screaming up the stairs and out of the room. There was a thump and he was thrown into a dark passageway. A torch was shoved in his hand.

‘I’ll get Dedue,’ someone said. ‘Go ahead. We’re right behind.’

The entrance to the underground road was slammed in Dimitri’s face.

Dimitri dropped the torch. It landed on the ground with a clatter but continued to burn, starving away complete darkness as Dimitri hurled himself at the door. He searched for a handle, a latch, anything. The stone was smooth. His fingers could not get purchase on the edges.

‘Let me in!’ he screamed, throwing his shoulder against the door. It didn’t budge. ‘I’ll kill them all! Dedue!’

Dimitri threw himself against the door again. His shoulder jarred, pain shooting down his arm. He could still hear the ringing of blades and cries of pain, though they were strangely muffled. The door had not moved an inch. He yelled again. No one answered.

It was only when the torch snuffed out that Dimitri felt the rage seep from his bones. He did not know how long he had been there, but his throat was coarse from screaming and he could feel the deep pain of bruises forming on his shoulder and hands.

Dimitri sank to his knees in the silence and darkness. ‘Please,’ he croaked, pressing his hands against the door.

There was no sound from beyond. Tears warmed his face as his head fell forward. Dimitri was alone.


	5. Madness

Dimitri stumbled up the last of the slope to Garreg Mach. He collapsed at the base of the stairs and looked up at the monastery. It seemed to glow in the late afternoon light, welcoming him home. As though he still had a home.

The memory came to him unbidden. Walking through the woods surrounding Garreg Mach with Edelgard and Claude beside him. Claude making some dig at Edelgard about needing saving. Edelgard snapping something back about Claude hanging back, not even engaging the enemy and letting others fight his battles.

Dimitri had observed how much Claude’s aim had improved and that the hours spent in the training grounds had been paying off. Claude took the implication that he had been training as a personal insult. Edelgard just snorted in derision.

Dimitri remembered watching the strange mercenary with the dark aqua hair witness their exchange with completely lifeless eyes. He had been immediately fascinated by her, this woman who could barely be a couple of years older than him, but who swung a blade with skill belying her age. He had been intrigued by the absent look in her eyes and the way she told jokes without any expression. Alois had taken her claim to be a bandit with good humour, but Dimitri had found it unnerving in its delivery.

So much about her had been unnerving in those first few months.

Biting back the hopeless sobs that threatened, Dimitri began the ascent up the monastery’s stairs on his hands and knees. He was tired. He was famished. Even with what he had recovered from the underground road, his provisions for the journey had lasted barely a week. Dedue’s plan was to purchase extra food from farms along the way, but Dimitri could not be seen. He had been forced to scavenge and steal as he stumbled through woodlands and hid from patrols in rocky outcrops. He had slept in undergrowth and caves with only his father’s cloak as protection against the chilly northern nights.

But just a little further and perhaps he could enjoy some warmth. A little further and perhaps, by some chance, he would find something to eat.

‘Oh ho.’

Dimitri closed his eyes, a moan escaping him.

‘This is a new look for you,’ Glenn said. ‘How do you expect to avenge us like this? You can’t even walk. I'd wager you can’t lift the weight of a lance anymore.’

‘Please, leave me alone,’ Dimitri pleaded.

‘What do you think this is? A game you can quit whenever you want?’

Dimitri reached out and used the parapet to drag himself to his feet. He faced Glenn.

‘Isn’t this enough?’ he said. ‘Don’t you have enough? I have no one left.’

Glenn rested his hand on the pommel of his sword and regarded Dimitri.

‘You should think of this as a good thing,’ he said. ‘Having friends is a distraction. It just draws your focus away from your true purpose.’

Dimitri turned away. ‘Shut up.’

The portcullis of the cathedral was raised. Dimitri wondered briefly, as he passed under it, whether it had ever been lowered after the Imperial army razed the monastery. Probably not. Probably Edelgard had left the cathedral and all its holy treasures to thieves and bandits. She wouldn’t care about such things, for all that the Empire only existed because of Seiros.

The cathedral door was ajar. Dimitri slipped through. As he took in the sight beyond his heart began to ache.

Benches were overturned and candelabra littered the floor of the nave. The roof of the dome had partially collapsed, leaving a pile of stone over one side of the apse. As Dimitri drew closer he could see what remained of the altar. It had been stripped of all gems and materials of value. The face of Seiros had been disfigured, while that of the Goddess was completely hacked away.

Nonetheless, when he was as close as possible Dimitri fell to his knees before it. He clasped his hands together, a single word rising up from the depths of his soul.

‘Why?’

His prayer echoed throughout the silent cathedral. Dimitri stared at the place where the Goddess’ face had been. Tears gathered in his eyes and blurred his sight.

‘The Goddess won’t help you.’

Dimitri hung his head. He began to whisper the one word over and over.

‘She has abandoned you,’ Lambert continued. ‘Do you think she could call someone like you, a rat who steals in the night and gnaws at the bones of the living, her servant? That she would come to your aid?’

The words were so unlike his father that Dimitri almost questioned them. Then he remembered that Lambert had probably seen the Goddess, for all that he was standing there beside Dimitri. As he always was now. Day or night, he stood there, begging Dimitri, accusing him, cursing him.

But if the answers were not here in the cathedral… Dimitri did not know where else to look. He slumped forward, bowing before the altar.

‘Please tell me why,’ he breathed.

The moon had risen before Dimitri found the strength to stand. Throughout the hours he had remained there, prostrate, begging the Goddess’s guidance, he had been met with only silence. For once even the ghosts had muted their voices. As though they knew their stillness would force him to realise he was truly alone in the land of the living.

Unsure what to do, Dimitri let his feet wander. When he found himself at the door of his old room in the dormitories he nearly laughed. He should have guessed they would lead him here.

The door had seized on its hinges. Dimitri had to use his shoulder to push it open. Inside, he found books and exam notes scattered across the floor. The desk chair was lying on its side, one leg broken. A cold breeze entered the room through the smashed window.

This place had once been a source of comfort and security to him. Now it felt foreign. He was no longer the boy who had carelessly lived and studied in this room. It felt wrong to rest here. He could not rest here.

Dimitri turned to leave before remembering. After the Imperial army overran the monastery, there had been no time to pack his things. Dimitri had returned to his room only to grab what he could not leave behind before he was smuggled back to Fhirdiad.

Looking at the desk, it appeared as though someone had rifled through it. Probably taking everything of value he had left behind. But perhaps…

He pulled out the top drawer. The engraved golden pen box was gone, as was the carved inkwell and his whetstone. A few pages of study notes obscured the drawer’s base. Dimitri reached past them and pressed down on the back of the drawer. The false bottom popped up at the front.

Reaching underneath, Dimitri fumbled for a moment. It was gone.

No.

Wrapping his fingers around the handle, Dimitri drew out the knife hidden there. It felt familiar in his hand, a memory from long ago realised in cold bone and metal. Testing the blade with his finger, he discovered it was still sharp.

Edelgard.

Dimitri tightened his grip as pure rage flared within him. She was the source and root of all of this. If not for her, his father and stepmother would not be dead. By…the professor would still be alive. Dedue…

‘She has to pay for what she has done.’

Glenn’s words rang clear. Heard through his fury, they made sense. Dimitri slammed the desk drawer shut and left the room. He would go to Enbarr. He would rip through Edelgard’s throat with her own knife. He would make her suffer everything that he felt.

Dimitri was passing by the last rooms of the first floor dormitories, building the details of his plans, when he heard it. A low growl. He spun, pressing his back to the wall of the building. Two points of light in the shadows, eyes staring directly at him. A wolf. A lone, skinny and small one, but a wolf nonetheless.

Dimitri lifted the knife. There was a panic in his mind formed by the knowledge that he was too weak in his current state. But his soul welcomed the danger. Welcomed the threat. Red fury quashed that seed of panic as the wolf attacked.

It knocked Dimitri to the ground with one blow. He only had time to roll onto his back before it was upon him, jaws snapping at his face. He lifted his arm and the wolf’s teeth tightened over his vambrace. At the same time, he plunged the knife into the creature’s belly and twisted.

The wolf squealed but continued the attack. Dimitri tugged the knife towards its chin, tearing through flesh. He wretched the knife free and stabbed the wolf again, this time in the area he guessed its heart would be.

It was over in moments. The wolf collapsed on top of him, lifeless. Dimitri lay under it, his heart pounding and breath short. Part of him was surprised that he was alive. The other part remembered the countless battles he had fought.

He was a monster, after all. Good at killing and nothing else.

Dimitri pushed the creature’s corpse off his chest. It hit the cobblestones with a thud, and then came the sound of its organs spilling out onto the ground.

Dimitri dropped the knife and rolled onto his knees. He retched, but there was no food in his stomach to expel. In its place came bile. That only make him choke more. Tears came, unbidden.

‘Are you really that weak?’ Lambert jeered.

Dimitri was still a long moment, hands resting on the ground, as he allowed his stomach to recover and gathered the strength to reply.

‘No.’

‘Good. Kill them all.’

Dimitri pushed himself to his feet and straightened. He froze as he realised where he was.

Something called to him from beyond her door. Dimitri reached out and turned the handle. The door swung open.

Inside, the room seemed miraculously unchanged. All around him were traces of her. Her books and her wooden training weapons. Even one of her coats was carelessly thrown across the desk chair, as though she had just been there. Dimitri ran his fingers over the fabric.

She was gone. Even though her ghost did not torment him like the others, he knew it as sure as he was somehow still breathing.

‘Kill them all,’ Lambert said.

‘Rip them limb from limb,’ Glenn added.

Dimitri sat down on the professor’s bed. His fingers sank into her blankets.

‘Kill,’ he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins.
> 
> Thank you for reading. I wanted to leave Dimitri at Garreg Mach in the beginning of his madness, but not drowning in full bloodlust. According to Gilbert's account that may have only commenced a year or so after his escape from Fhirdiad, and I want to keep with that timeline for this and related fics. 
> 
> I have more fics in the making that will be published as part of my Lone Moon series, exploring Dimitri's and later Byleth's thoughts and actions from the timeskip on. They should be (hopefully!) posted soon. If you have time and the inclination, keep an eye out for them!
> 
> Thank you again!


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